


Correction

by weekendwriting95



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Reunion, Roadtrip, Romance, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly- oneshot, mollock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekendwriting95/pseuds/weekendwriting95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No they didn't 'accidently' misspell my name." She ripped her arm away from her face, her eyes meeting Sherlock's with a sorrow laced expression on her normally cheerful face. "In school they really did call me Molly Pooper." Molly gets an invitation in the mail to attend 'The Reunion of Champions.' and Sherlock tags along to support her. Sherlolly, prompt fill for Tiffany!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Correction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TennantsLittleKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TennantsLittleKitten/gifts).



> This story is for cycat4077, who gave me the prompt “Molly's high school reunion. Bringing a date is a standard social convention. She's got the successful career but can she have the arm to hold as well? (Unestablished Sherlolly for the fun of it) :)” I hope you like the story Tiffany!

The invitation had arrived that Saturday morning along with the rest of her mail. Her name, which the sender had purposely misspelt, was written in beautiful cursive writing across the pricey white laced invite. The word ‘reconnect’ decorated the page numerous times, imploring the reader to consider attending the reunion. The invite’s tone left a sour taste in Molly’s mouth; the sender’s cheerful tone seemed forced even to her.

With her normal cheerful mood now successfully dampened, Molly placed the invitation back in the small forgotten pile of mail on the counter. She walked with heavy footsteps towards the kitchen, and began her search for a large spoon and a carton of strawberry ice cream that would help sooth her mood.

* * *

She was miserable.

Two days had passed since Molly had read the invitation, and she was no step closer to finding the needed words that would excuse her from attending, ‘ The Reunion of Champions’, as the invite called it. Every excuse she created sounded unbelievable even to her ears.

She shoveled the last remaining spoonfuls of ice cream into her mouth, her legs ached in pain from being in a crossed legged position all evening. Still she sat on the floor of her flat unmoving, her eyes set into a fierce glare at the old Toshiba laptop that sat in front of her, and the invitation beside it.

A growl left Molly’s lips when her laptop beeped with a message. A message that seemed to announce in a passive aggressive manner, that not only did her laptop have only ten percent of battery left, but that she had wasted ninety percent of her laptops battery doing nothing but staring at a blank email screen.

Her hand moved quickly forward to shut the Toshiba’s mocking screen. Both hands went to cover her face, a defeated breath leaving her lips as she sunk her body onto the kitchen floor. Legs, which moments ago ached to be stretched, had now flinched from her supine position on the floor.

She laid on the kitchen floor for what seemed like hours, her head slowly emerging from its swirling thoughts as time passed her.

_Click, click, click._

Molly moved her hands away from her tired face at the sound of someone picking the lock of her front door. For a moment she contemplated standing up, but that thought had only caused her body to groan in protest. So instead of greeting the intruder, she placed her arm across her sunken exhausted eyes, effectively shielding them from both the florescent light of her kitchen ceiling, and the person that would surely demand her presence.

“Molly, your expertise is needed at Barts immediately.” Her lips pursed at the sound of Sherlock’s tone, and she held her breath in hopes that he wouldn’t enter the kitchen. Hopes that were soon dashed at the sound of his footsteps walking across the kitchen tile and towards her supine position on the floor.

“Molly?” Sherlock questioned, his right brow raised slightly as he stared at her with a bemused expression.

With great effort, Molly raised her arm above her face and waved a quick hello towards him. She than dropped her heavy arm back onto its original position across her eyes, successfully dismissing the questionable expression on his face.

Sherlock spared two seconds to roll his eyes at her pathetic display, then moved across the floor to where her dead laptop sat, and the invite beside it. His head tilted slightly as he hurriedly scanned the invitation on the floor.

“They accidently misspelt your name.” Sherlock stated with finality, his lips turned down at the harsh sigh that left the pathologist lips.

“No they didn’t ‘accidently’ misspell my name.” She ripped her arm away from her face, her eyes meeting Sherlock’s with a sorrow laced expression on her normally cheerful face. “In school they really did call me Molly Pooper.”

His face puckered into a sour expression as he imagined the way her old classmates must have tormented her using that awful nickname. He stepped hotly away from her, his eyes landing once again on the invitation, devouring its contents as silence swept across them.

“Are you going?”

She sat up and looked at him with disbelief. “Of course not.”

He dragged his eyes away from the invite, and turned toward her. His brow raised with equal parts arrogance and confidence as he pointed at the invite.

“You are contemplating going though. Otherwise, you would have thrown this invite into the bin where the rest of the other mindless trash goes. There is a part of you, however small it _may_ be, that wants to attend this reunion, however dull and boring it _will_ be.”

She lowered her gaze onto the tile, and absentmindedly picked at the frayed fabric at the bottom of her pajama shirt. He sighed at her reluctance to meet his gaze, and ignored the way his joints popped and cracked as he lowered himself onto the floor and sat beside his stoic pathologist. He reached across the space between them, and gently placed her soft hand into his.

“Molly, if the reason for your reluctance to attend this over glorified party, is because you fear they will tease you then I must say-”

“No, that’s not-” Molly interrupted, her eyes doubling in size at his soft spoken- yet completely out of place, words.

“I must say, that you have aged quite impressively, and your knowledge on decomposition rates are astounding. I would be thoroughly surprised if your classmates were as successful as you. There is no area in your life to be teased about” Sherlock said, his words sincere and firm as he squeezed her hand gently before he moved to stand up.

A wobbly smile tugged at her lips as she followed his lead and stood up, her heart bounded against her chest as his sincere words touched her. “Thank you Sherlock.” She whispered softly to him as he moved to grab her coat from the closet.

“Think nothing of it.” Sherlock said as he assisted her into her autumn jacket. A secret smile briefly crossed his lips as he noticed the way her gaudy green pajama pants clashed against her stiff burgundy jacket. He moved to stand beside her, his arm out towards her in a silent offer, one that she shyly accepted.

They walked together in silence, both lost in their own thoughts as they walked towards Barts. “We should leave no later than noon on Saturday. Is this an acceptable time to you or should we leave earlier?” Sherlock said as they strode together towards the entrance of Barts. He turned his face in question as he felt Molly’s hand tighten its hold on his arm, her brow raised in silent query.

“Sherlock, are you planning to accompany me?”

“Of course. As you know, bringing a date to these types of things are considered a standard social convention. You will have one of the most successful careers at this reunion, why can’t you have an arm to hold throughout the evening as well?”

Their gaze both simultaneously looked down to where her hand was placed on top of his arm. When their eyes met once again, he flashed her a dangerous smile and winked at her in true conspiracy. “Besides, if anyone dares tease you, or contradicts your importance and the copious amount of success you’ve accomplished at Barts over the years, then _I’ll_ be there to shine an _honest_ light onto their so-called-successes.”

She stared at him in silence, her lips twitched from holding back the smile that wanted to erupt onto her face at his ‘comforting ‘words. “You’re a great friend Sherlock.”

Her words, which should have been a compliment to his ears, left an ache in his chest, and the air to sink heavily into his lungs. His mind buffered as he made a mental note to further explore the reason for his physical discomfort at her sincere words.

* * *

She prayed for a case.

A solid ten that would cause Sherlock to forget about her and the reunion that was on Saturday. But it never came. She was forced to buy a dress, and to spend many hours on the internet learning how to apply makeup in a flawless fashion.

Doubt began to swim in her mind as she packed her bag that Saturday morning. _What if she embarrassed herself?_ Her thoughts were broken by the sound of knocking on her front door. She made her way across the hall to open the door, and reveal a site both unexpected and mouthwatering.

Sherlock Holmes was not only wearing _the_ purple-shirt-of-sex, but was also wearing dark denim jeans that seemed to be created just for him. He reached around her and grabbed the handle of luggage before offering her his arm.

“Hello Molly. Based on the snacks that we will consume on our road trip, and the amount of water you’ve most likely consumed, I’m expecting us to only need to stop twice on the way. Let’s get a move on shall we?” She turned away from his speech to lock the front door, then smiled brightly at him as she placed her hand naturally on top of his arm.

“Are you driving?” Molly asked when they arrived at the lower entrance of her building, a familiar black government car was parked on the pavement, absent of its usual stern government driver.

“Yes, you know what they say about driving skills. If you don’t use them you lose them.” He said as he effortlessly hauled her luggage into the back seat of the car. Once the baggage was secure, he moved to the driver’s seat and turned the key; causing the engine to come alive with a deep rumble. With great ease, his hand grasped the gear shift and with reflexes that made her internally pant, effortlessly brought them onto London’s busy roads.

She turned away from him and his impressive driving skills, and instead let her mind wander as she turned towards the window, and languidly watched London’s beautiful scenery pass them as they drove onward.

London was her home.

London, with its perfect blend of modern simplicity and historic roots, was her _home_.

It at times could be loud, and obnoxious, but creativity never ran dry, and the people were lovely. In London, she had found the courage to discover who she was, and could be.

In only four hours, she would be back in a town that reflected the individuals that thrived in it. A town where all houses were prim and proper, and were anything different was shunned or frowned upon. A town that housed numerous people that had, at various points in her life, crippled her creative spirit, and mocked her inquisitive personality. A town that made her feel lonely, and forever exhausted.

Tears swam in the corner of her eyes as she finally stepped away from her thoughts. _Could she do this?_

Maybe it was the low buzz of the government vehicle, or maybe it was the exhaustion that suddenly swept deep inside her bones. Whatever the reason was, she ached to express her vulnerable thoughts and to be told that everything would be okay. That she _could_ do this. Molly turned toward Sherlock, her hands clenched together on her lap as she filled her lungs with a courageous breath.

“I’m not sure I want to do this.”

“Molly-” Before Sherlock could finish his sentence, Molly held up her finger, a silent reminder that she needed to finish her thoughts without interruption. He pursed his lips, and bit his tongue but nodded at her signal, his eyes resuming their focus on the road in front of him.

“I hated school.”

Tears blurred her vision as she looked away from her clenched hands and instead on Sherlock’s passive face that was deep in concentration. “I had a terrible time in school. My classmates were just awful towards me and my mum. My peers would tease me, pull my hair, purposely throw hurtful words towards me to see me cry. One girl faked a friendship with me to learn my insecurities, then used them to bully me until I graduated. They were just bloody awful Sherlock.”

Sherlock watched from his peripheral vision as she wiped a lone tear that fell from her sorrowed filled eyes. He felt his pulse quicken, and anger settle into his veins as he heard her voice crack under the weight of emotion she felt. He jerked the car onto the shoulder of the road, and forced the car into a sudden stop.

“We can turn around. Go back to London and forget about them.” He said as he angled his body toward her, his eyes imploring her to tell him what she needed him to do. She met his gaze, as they let silence sweep between them as she thought of his offer, and what she really wanted to do.

“I’m not sure I want to do that either.” She leaned against the car seat as she continued to meet Sherlock’s stare, her mind running as she contemplated her next words. “What you said the other night- about my accomplishments, it resonated with me. I am a different person now, a stronger person, a person that might need just a little closure before moving on.”

He nodded his head at her words, and waited patiently for her to decide what direction they would be driving them. She chewed her lip as they continued to wait for her decision.

Finally, after five minutes of heavy silence, Molly moved forward and gave Sherlock’s hand a quick squeeze before she reached over and snapped her seatbelt back into place. “Thank you. I think we should go, it’s rude not to attend a party after RSVP’ing to them after all.”

He shrugged at her statement, but pulled them back onto the road as they continued forward towards their destination. His body froze momentarily as she turned her head towards him and placed her hand onto his thigh, and looked at him with complete sincerity. “I don’t know if I could have done this without you, you are a good man Sherlock Holmes, and a great friend.”

Although he briefly returned her smile, they both new it was slightly forced. The feeling of rejection, however illogical, settled into his bones as she once again referred to him as her friend. He shook his head and once again focused on the road in front of him.

* * *

The rest of the car ride went by smoothly, a few more bathroom breaks then Sherlock had anticipated, but they still made it to the hotel in record time.

Houses continued to stand prime and prim, side- by- side, exactly how it did many years ago. Molly swore even the air they breathed seem to be stale and ancient. Nothing had changed in her absence, the town seemed to be stuck in time. She wondered if that meant the people she once called peers were also stuck in time.

They walked towards the front desk to check in. Molly’s eyes doubled in size and fought the urge to run back to London as she recognized the desk clerk almost immediately.

“Molly Pooper.” The woman behind the desk sung in a mocking manner as she readjusted her no-nonsense ponytail. “I didn’t think _you_ would actually show up.”

“Yes, well here I am.” Molly stated as she pointed down to the suitcase beside her, then moved back to look at the woman in front of her.

“You haven’t visited in quite a few years, I wonder why that is hmm?” Julie said, her lips curling back in a phony smile.

They both turned to Sherlock, her momentarily forgotten companion, as he opened the suitcase at Molly’s feet to pull out The Journal of Pathology and London’s most popular newspaper: The Londoners Times. Two items she was sure she didn’t pack. He handed her both items before offering his arm out for her to hold, his face remaining stoic in silent support to.

Molly’s eyes moved down to the headlines of both items, a large smile crossing her lips as she turned her back against the woman in front of her, and instead moved to be in Sherlock’s direct line of site.

“Both of these were published months ago. You kept them?” Molly questioned, a small blush staining her cheeks as Sherlock’s stoic face cracked slightly into a smile in return.

“Of course. Both were impressive accomplishments by you.” Molly smiled shyly at his words and moved back to stand beside him, her hand resting gently on top of his arm, as she stared back at the woman in front of them, with a renewed sense of confidence in her stance.

“Julie-”

“Unmarried I see.” The woman-Julie, said as she interrupted Molly, her fingers flying across the key board as she gave Molly a patronizing smile. “No wedding ban. It can’t be serious between you two then.”

“Was that your attempt at a deduction?” Sherlock said from Molly’s side, his voice condescending as he flashed Julie his own version of a patronizing smile. “Because I assure you, if that was your attempt at one, then you have failed miserably. Shall I show you a real deduction?”

Molly froze at his words and tightened her hold on his arm, successfully bringing his full attention back onto her instead. “Not now Sherlock. I’m tired and really want to take a nap before tonight, please don’t start anything.”

He reluctantly tore his eyes away from hers and moved back to glare at this Julie individual in front of them. “Another time then. I called earlier this week for one room under Holmes.”

He brushed away Molly’s confused expression and moved to lean closer to Julie, his gaze turned menacing as he spat his next words at her, his patience dissolved as she opened her mouth to argue with him. “But since this town, and the people in it are incompetent I wouldn’t be surprise if my reservation got ‘lost.’ So once again, I would like to book one room, under Holmes, with a good view if this tedious town has one.”

Julie huffed in response but moved to hand him a key.

“Thank you.” Sherlock said as he snatched the key away from Julie’s clutches and gave the key to Molly. “We’ll be off now, do not disturb us.”

They both walked away from the fuming blonde, Sherlock’s hand on the small of Molly’s back as they moved towards the lift.

“One room?” Molly questioned in a silent whisper once the lifts doors shut securely in front of them. Sherlock shrugged off her question as they rode the lift up to the tenth floor.

“Many benefits, one of which is saving money.”

Molly stared at him in disbelief but shook her head in defeat as the lift beeped and they exited out of it, walking towards their room.

The room was definitely a nice surprise. Instead of plain, and boring as she had expected, the room was actually warm and welcoming with its soft and inviting colour pallet. The carpet felt like cotton under her bare feet, and the bed looked extremely enticing.

Her entire body went limp at the site of the inviting bed and its seemingly soft duvet covers, and in that moment all she wanted to do was take a well needed nap. She dove under the- now confirmed, heavenly soft duvet covers, a satisfied groan leaving her lips as she snuggled further under the blanket, its warmth wrapping her into a tight welcoming hug. She peeked her head up from under the covers to look at Sherlock who had coughed awkwardly at the sound of her groan, and gently patted the space beside her, a silent invitation to join her.

“Thank you again for coming here with me.”

Sherlock shrugged, and moved to lay beside her. Both of them enjoying the comfortable silence between them. Molly felt her vision slightly blur as she was moments away from falling asleep, when she heard Sherlock’s whisper to her.

“That Julie person, she was the one that faked a friendship with you.”

“Yes.”

Sherlock shook his head at the confirmation of his words, and mumbled a heated ‘goldfish are idiots’ before he turned his head to look at her. “She wasn’t worth your time.”

Molly shrugged at his comforting words, and focused her gaze onto the ceiling, her exhaustion fleeting as she imaged the reunion that would take place in only a few hours.

“I’m nervous.” She confessed to him in a broken whisper.

“Don’t be, I have four more articles that explain your accomplishments. I would be highly surprised if any of your ‘peers’ were published in a local blog, let alone a well renown journal, or popular newspaper.” He said as he moved his body closer beside her, his warmth seeping into her skin as she smiled at his ‘comforting’ words.

“Sherlock, that’s not very nice.” She scolded softly. His face buffered briefly before he shut his eyes and placed his hands underneath his chin, his voice nonchalant as he entered his mind palace.

“Maybe not, but my words are true none the less.”

Molly smiled at his relaxed face, and leaned toward him placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re a great friend Sherlock.”

He was snapped out of his mind palace at the soft touch of her lips on his skin, and the whispered words she spoke. Again, the word ‘friend’ made him ache for something more. His jaw clutched as he thought about the meaning to his body’s reaction.

“What’s wrong?” Molly asked from beside him, her voice filled with concern as his eyes swept across her face, his brow furrowed slightly as his eyes stopped at her lips. He huffed and then moved his eyes up to meet her curious stare.

“I’m beginning to despise that word.” Sherlock confessed as he forced his eyes to shut, a trivial attempt to retreat back to his mind palace.

“What word?” Sherlock’s eyes snapped open once again at Molly’s question, and he found himself staring at her in disbelief. Wasn’t it obvious what he was talking about?

“The word: friend.”

“Oh.” Molly said, she was taken aback from his tone. Quickly she moved away from him and laid closer to the edge of the bed as she thought of what the meaning of his words meant. _Does he not see himself as a friend figure in her life? Or worse, does he no longer want to be her friend?_

“Stop, I didn’t mean it quite that way.” Sherlock said softly as he reached his arm toward her and wrapped it around her waist, gently pulling her closer to the center of the bed where seconds ago she laid. “I meant that lately, it seems that I am finding myself unsatisfied with our relationship. The sentiment I hold for you is more than just friendship, but rather something akin to love.”

Molly froze at his words and the unshielded look of vulnerability in his eyes as he stared at her. She watched his lips contort as they moved to form the words he continued to spew at her direction. Her mind shutting out as she replayed his shocking confession in her head. _Akin to love_?

She was brought back to reality, when he gently brought her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her wrist as he gazed at her. “If your feelings have changed, please tell me now so I can try and rid myself of these invasive, yet not completely unwelcomed emotions.”

Finally, she found her needed courage and pounced on top of him, her lips pressed hard against his as they shared a passionate heated kiss.

“Oh you silly, silly, silly man.” She said once their first, but definitely not last kiss, came to an end. Her eyes shun with absolute adoration for the man under her, his hand gripping her hips tightly at the site of her sweet smile. He pulled her body tighter against his and smiled hotly against her lips before stealing another kiss from her not-too-small lips.

* * *

By the time they felt the need to extract themselves from each other’s embrace, they barely had enough time to get properly dressed. Once settled, they drove towards her old school, his hand in hers the entire drive there.

A large sign with the words ‘Welcome Champions.’ greeted them as they entered her old school, its fancy cursive lettering causing Sherlock to roll his eyes. All conversation ended as they made their entrance into the old gymnasium, her old peers watched with surprise as they recognized her.

The dress she wore was simple, nothing worth noting or gossiping about. But her smile, the smile that was never seen by the people in this awful town, shined with absolute love and adoration for the man beside her. Sherlock lowered his lips to whisper something in Molly’s ear, his words causing a beautiful blush to stain her cheeks, which made her look even more radiant.

They walked towards the table where all the name tags sat prettily, and where her last name was once again misspelt. She reached into her pocket, and withdrew a black sharpie. She scribbled out her last which made Sherlock smile briefly at his pathologist.

“What are you doing?”

Molly continued to cross out her misspelt name, not looking away from her nametag to see Julie’s outraged face. “Fixing my last name.”

Julie snorted at Molly’s statement, her eyes rolled in sarcasm as she smirked at both Molly and Sherlock. “It was just a joke Pooper. Stop being so serious.”

Molly placed the modified name tag onto her dress. “Correction, my last name _was_ Hooper. The first letter of which started with an ‘H’, the same first letter as my husband’s last name: Holmes. Which a few hours ago I became.” She pointed at her now corrected nametag, which simply read Molly Holmes in black lettering. A satisfied smile tugged at both of their lips when they heard Julie’s sputtered, and incoherent response.

* * *

In total, the new couple only stayed at the reunion for about ten minutes. After they danced together for two songs, the gossip around them became unbearably dull. Together they both decided that their time was better spent elsewhere.

Somewhere without Julie Anders throwing glares at their general direction.

With a final glance back, they left the dreary town Molly once called home, along with the miserable people in it and drove forward, back to the place they both regarded as home.

Both anticipating the exciting future ahead of them with matching grins.


End file.
